


11:39pm

by cloversweets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Awkward Crush, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Mutual Pining, Romance, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloversweets/pseuds/cloversweets
Summary: Piers stops off at your place late night after a gig, offering a bag of take-out and the pleasure of his company. You have a lot you want to tell him and a particularly uncomfortable couch. Who knows where it’ll end up?
Relationships: Nezu | Piers (Pokemon)/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 148





	11:39pm

It’s late when you hear knocking at your front door.

It’s been a hard day - harder than most, in fact. Work sucked, and you had the worst ride home in a flying taxi you think you’ve ever had thanks to the awful Galarian weather and an especially bad-tempered Corviknight at the helm. But now, finally, you’re home, bundled up on the sofa with some tea and blankets after a nice, hot shower. Peace, at last.

Well, until now.

You pull yourself up off your comfy sofa with a huff, taking a second to straighten out your comfy pyjamas before you go and give whoever it is that’s still banging on your front door a piece of your mind.

Of course, that plan goes out the window as soon as you yank open the door. You’re ready to begin lecturing, only to see Piers slouched in front of you, greeting you with tired eyes. “Oh,” you say in lieu of greeting, and Piers takes this as his change to push gently past you, his heavy boots making a racket on your wooden floors.

“Nice to see you too,” Piers responds, and your head turns to follow him as he wanders into your apartment - until you have the sense to close your front door again. By the time you’re finished locking up, Piers is standing in the middle of your living room with a plastic bag in hand, surveying your furniture with a critical eye. After a moment he glances at you, and sees your eyes on the bag swinging from his hand. “Ah. I forgot to mention. I brought food.”

You hum in response, moving back to your comfortable spot on the sofa. “You also forgot to mention that you were even coming over in the first place, actually. And pushing past me like that? I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but you obviously already have.”

Piers shrugs and mumbles something vaguely apologetic, but you know he’s not actually feeling all that guilty. “I was playin’ a local gig an’ decided I’d pay a visit,” he says, and finally decides to plonk himself down beside you on your sofa after he places the plastic bag of food on your coffee table. Now you’re close enough to notice how good it smells, you realise just how hungry you are. “It’s from the Slowpoke tail place you like.”

You meet his eyes and can’t help but smile. You didn’t even realise he knew it was your favourite. “I’ll get cutlery,” you tell him, moving to stand, but he puts out an arm and stops you where you are.

“I know where everythin’ is, don’t worry,” he tells you, standing up before you’ve even gotten the chance to argue. “It’s the least I can do for intrudin’.”

“You aren’t intruding,” you call after him as he clomps to your kitchen, the heels of his boots clacking loudly. “I’ve just had a hard day, and I’m so tired. Sorry if I was rude.”

You hear clattering in the kitchen and lean over your sofa, trying to peer through your open door to see what he’s doing to your lovely, tidy kitchen drawers. “Don’t worry,” he responds, his voice ringing clearly over the racket. “I get it. You look tired, if I’m honest.” With that, you hear him banging your cupboards closed and the noise of his heels moves closer again.

“I don’t think that’s a polite thing to say,” you tell him, but he just shrugs as he reappears in your doorway. You smile sweetly at Piers as he re-appears, and he watches you suspiciously. You pause for a moment, holding back laughter as his expression grows more into the perfect mixture of unimpressed and panicked. “You know what would help, though?” you finally ask, breaking the tense silence.

“What,” is his deadpan reply, sheltered in the doorway as though you’re going to leap at him from over the sofa.

“Taking off those bloody awful boots of yours.”

He huffs at this, and heads over to place the handful of cutlery he’s holding next to the bag of food on the table. “You’ve got no appreciation for style, you know that?” he grumbles, but you notice that he’s walking a lot more lightly. Your wooden floors will be just as grateful for it as you are, you’re certain.

“I do have an appreciation for my eardrums, though,” you tell him, and lean forward to finally start digging into the food he’s brought along. You open the bag and peer in, spotting the Alolan-style spiced vegetable and Slowpoke tail stew you love sitting at the very top. “You got my favourite!”

“‘Course,” Piers tells you, fiddling with his boots somewhere near the door. “What, y’think I don’t remember what you like?”

You’re too busy trying to pull the lid off your stew without spilling it to reply with something intelligent, so you settle for shaking your head once you hear him padding over to sit on the sofa again. “No,” you respond, absentmindedly glancing over at him for a moment. “I’m just grateful.”

With a roll of his eyes, he gently pulls the container out of your hands. “You should be,” he mumbles, but his voice is softer. You pick a spoon from the table in front of you as he carefully peels off the lid of your food, and take it from him when he slowly hands it back. “Careful not to spill any, yeah?”

You give him a thankful smile, and he meets your eyes for a moment before he looks away. You can see the tips of his ears turning pink against the dark black streak in his hair, and you hide your smile behind a bite of spinach. 

The two of you eat quietly for a little while, with the only noise in the room being the quiet music you’d put on when you’d gotten in from work. “So,” you eventually say, disturbing the quiet. “How was your show, then?”

Piers shrugs, shuffling from his slouched position on your sofa until he’s facing you. “Pretty decent, y’know,” he tells you through a mouthful of noodles. “I like it ‘round here. Crowds are always amazin’, and they never seem to mind that I don’t do encores. It’s easier to leave when you don’t have a room full of people shoutin’ after you, wantin’ you to keep the show goin’.”

You hum, scraping the bottom of your bowl with your spoon for the last little bits of stew. “You’ve been playing a lot more since Marnie took over,” you note, and he shrugs again, but you see a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he fiddles with his chopsticks. “Have you been having fun?”

“Course,” he says, looking up from his food. “To be honest with you, I didn’t realise how stiflin’ it was to be Gym Leader ‘til Marnie took over for me. I was only really holdin’ the job for her. I’ve always been more into music.” With that, he pauses for a moment, lowering the container in his hands to his lap. “Well,” he says after a moment. “You helped a lot, actually.”

You raise your eyebrows, keeping your eyes on him as you lean over to put your empty box onto the table. Arceus, that stew never fails to make you feel better. “Me?”

Piers shifts, his ears turning red again. “Yeah,” he says, and his eyes move to inspect the chipped nail polish on his fingers. “I know I might not act like it, but I’m glad I tagged along with you when all that stuff was happenin’ with those stupid posh brothers. An’ it might sound bad, but I’m glad you beat Marnie for Champ, too. She’s done more for Spikemuth than I ever could, an’… well.” He shrugs, glancing back up at you. “I finally feel like I’m comin’ back to myself, you know? I couldn’t really handle the responsibility, an’ before I met you, I was, ah… a bit depressed, if ‘m honest. Now, though…”

“You’re a lot happier, right?” you ask, and Piers nods. “It doesn’t sound awful, you know. Marnie is an amazing Leader, and it’s because she loves battling. In the same way, you love music. You had to sacrifice that to take on a lot of responsibility at a young age, so… I don’t think you should feel bad.” Piers watches you, and you give him a smile. “I wouldn’t.”

Piers is quiet for a while after you speak, peering down into his box of noodles. He eventually moves to sit them alongside your box, the chopsticks clinking against each other. “That’s what I mean,” he eventually says, sitting back and taking a minute to get himself comfy. You don’t know how he manages in those skin-tight leather trousers he has on, but you don’t comment on it. “If I hadn’t met you, I’d be beatin’ myself up like mad over it. Now, though, I’m just thankful. Marnie is happy, Spikemuth is growin’, an’, y’know… You’re Champ, an’ everythin’ is good. I’m just… thankful for the stuff you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you tell him, reaching out to pat his bony knee. “I just did what I had to. And, just so you know… I’m glad I got to know you, too.”

There’s a silence after you speak, and though it’s tense with something, it’s not awkward or weird. It just feels like there’s something unspoken - but this has become blatantly obvious the more time you spend with Piers. Sure, there was a spark during that random battle during your quest to become Champion, but it’s grown, blossoming into a comfortable companionship. Comfortable enough for deep talks at 12:30am in your apartment, anyway. 

If you’re being honest, though, you haven’t really been open with yourself; you know, slowly but surely, you’re developing feelings for Piers. Piers, though, being the aloof grump he is, has never even hinted he feels the same way. Now, though, as you watch the blush on his cheeks grow as he picks at the black nail polish he wears, you’re beginning to second guess that.

With a deep breath, you decide to take a leap of faith. Why not, right? So, knocking your knee against Piers’, you speak up. “Piers, can I ask you something?”

He looks up quickly enough that it betrays his cool, even while he’s straightening out his leather jacket and brushing back his messy hair a second later. “‘Course.”

Your hands are sweating with how nervous you are. You clear your throat, but you can already feel how hot your face is growing. “Um… this is a weird question, but please don’t be, like, mad, or creeped out, okay?” you ask, and Piers nods, the confusion evident on his face. “Is - I mean, do… do you think there’s something between us?”

Piers isn’t daft, and he knows what you mean straight away - you see it in his droopy eyes. He doesn’t answer immediately, though; instead, he opens his mouth as if to speak, and closes it again after a moment of silence. “Well,” he eventually says. His voice is shaky. There’s another long pause. “This is unexpected.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you say quickly, but he shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expectin’ it.” He looks at you and you can tell he really means it. You guess he’s just not used to vulnerability like this - but, at the same time, he’s been vulnerable with you from the very beginning, ever since he admitted to you that he blamed himself for the fact that you were the first challenger he’d had in a while. “If I’m bein’ honest, I do,” he eventually says. His pink cheeks are so bright compared to his hair and black clothes. “I’ve felt it for a while, too.”

“I felt it the first time we met,” you tell him, your voice shaking. The excitement - or maybe it’s adrenaline - is rushing up inside of you, though, and you can’t help the way you start to babble. “I’ve always really liked you, Piers. You don’t hide anything, and you’re so honest about your feelings. I really appreciate that.” You pause, face burning, and an idea hits you like a truck. It’s a risky choice, but you take a deep breath before you speak again. “Do you want to stay the night?”

Piers looks away from the hole he was boring into his own skinny legs to meet your eyes, obviously in shock. He’s stayed before - crashing your apartment after a gig isn’t that rare of an occasion - but this time it’s different. He knows you’re not inviting him to attempt to curl his lanky legs up into a comfortable position on your little sofa, anyway. “You mean - right now?”

You nod, determined to not back down. “No funny business, I promise,” you tell him, and he slumps back into a more relaxed position. “I just… it’s late, but I want to talk about, um, us, but… I think it’s too late, but I wouldn’t ask you to come over again tomorrow morning just to talk, and I think it would be kinda weird to make you stay on the sofa like usual-”

Piers cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “I get what you’re sayin’,” he interrupts, and you thankfully take a much needed breath. “Mind… you’re sure y’mean no funny business?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you can’t help but clock him on the knee. He doesn’t even flinch, much to your chagrin.

“Of course I mean no funny business!” You’re telling the truth, really, but you can’t help but poke fun. “I mean, unless…”

Piers glares at you from the other side of the sofa, shrinking into himself like a particularly angry turtle. “Don’t push your luck with me,” he grumbles, but you can see the pink on his pale cheeks. “I’ll stay, though. It’s gettin’ late, after all.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stifling a smile behind your palm. “Very dark out there.”

Piers fixes you with a death glare. “Very.”

You can’t help but snigger at your own stupid pun after that, and you reach out to knock your knee gently off his bony one. “Okay, mister,” you tell him, pulling yourself off the sofa with a lot of effort. Even despite your heart-to-heart and the way that you’re giddy from excitement from Piers sharing a bed with you, oh Arceus - you can’t deny the fact you’re in a total food coma. “I’ll let you get changed, shall I? I’ve got some clean clothes you can sleep in fresh out of the dryer, actually.”

“Will they fit?” Piers asks, taking the hand you’ve reached out to him with an even brighter blush than before. You roll your eyes, playfully pushing him towards your kitchen.

“We get it, you’re over six feet tall, but you don’t need to worry,” you tell him, and you grin at the smile just about playing on his lips. “Clothes are on top of the dryer, and you can change in the bathroom. Have a shower if you want, actually. I’ll clear the food from the living room, yeah?”

Piers allows you to push him to the washing machine but catches your wrist in a gentle hold before you can turn back to the living room. His fingers are cold, but it feels like his hand on your wrist has you glowing from the inside out. “Hey,” he says, and his voice is more gentle than you think you’ve ever heard it. “Thanks.”

You give him an easy smile, trying not to betray the fact that your palms alone are sweating buckets. “Of course, love.”

It doesn’t take long after that for you to clean up the living room and kitchen - though your record timing might be because of the fact that you seem to be running on pure adrenaline. You double check that you locked the front door and turn all the electronics off before you head to your bedroom. The sound of the shower coming from the bathroom gives you just enough time to throw your dirty laundry in the washing basket and add a little lavender oil to your humidifier before you hear the sound of water shutting off.

You peer around your room, checking it’s not… well, romantic, you guess. It’s still kind of messy - there’s an empty mug from this morning on your bedside table you should really take to the kitchen, actually, but you ignore it and clamber into bed anyway. 

It’s just a friendly sleepover. Seriously. You have no ulterior motives, and you know Piers doesn’t, either.

So why are you so nervous?

A few minutes later, Piers meanders into your room and gently closes the door. You can’t help but giggle at the way he looks - he’s fresh faced, his poofy hair tied still into a top knot to keep it from getting wet, and he’s in the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in - a pair of black sweats and a baggy white t-shirt.

“These clothes are even big on me,” he tells you, and you shuffle over to make room for him to sit on the edge of the bed. He peers at you from over his shoulder, and without the smudged eyeshadow, he looks cute. “Why’d you have them lyin’ about?”

You shrug, pulling the covers up to your chin to hide your smile. Okay, well. This definitely confirms that you’re embarrassingly smitten. “I just like wearing big clothes.”

Piers breathes out a little noise of laughter, and then… there’s a weird pause. You’re waiting for him to climb into bed, but he’s not moving. You look at each other for a long moment before you snort, hesitantly patting the mattress beside you. “Um… I won’t bite, you know.”

That seems to be the confirmation Piers is looking for. He shimmies his way up the bed, clambering in as carefully as he can with his long, bony limbs. “I know that,” he grumbles, but the tips of his ears are pink again.

It takes a few moments for the two of you to settle in, and… well, it’s kind of awkward, but not as painful as you’d imagined. To avoid it growing uncomfortably silent, though, you lean over and turn off your bedside lamp, leaving only the glow of your humidifier. It’s quiet, but the sound of Piers’ breathing is more relaxing than you realised. Now, with all that adrenaline out of your system, the tiredness from earlier hits you like a truck.

“You’re fallin’ asleep already,” Piers says, clearly amused. You grumble, shuffling further into your covers - and perhaps a little closer to Piers. Perhaps.

“‘M not,” you try to argue, but even you can hear the way you’re slurring. You huff out a chuckle. “Had a hard day. So tired. Go ‘sleep.”

“I will,” Piers tells you, but his voice is already growing more distant as you doze off. You think he might be taking the opportunity to move a little closer, but you can’t be sure. Either way, you’re so comfy. “Thanks again. Let’s talk in the mornin’, yeah?”

You ‘mmm’ an affirmative, and then you’re out like a light.

And, well, if you happen to wake up in the morning to Piers’ lanky arms wrapped around you like a Komala, gently snoring against the back of your neck, you certainly won’t complain.

**Author's Note:**

> this is crossposted from a request through my tumblr. 
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! kudos and comments are appreciated! <3


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